


How To Flambé Christmas

by girlintheglen



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 10:40:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8887768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlintheglen/pseuds/girlintheglen
Summary: Prompts: Blizzard; Diner; Emergency:





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Avery11](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avery11/gifts).



> Prompts: Blizzard; Diner; Emergency:

 

 

_Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful…_

 

The sirens were screaming like wild banshees as two men looked on from a safe distance.The fire was unbelievably fierce, as though a gate to hell had somehow opened up right in the middle of New York.

But wait, let's go back and see where this all began.

**UNCLE Headquarters**

**New York, NY**

**Christmas Eve, 1965**

There was a lightness in his steps as Napoleon Solo made his way through the ever grey corridors of UNCLE HQ.In spite of the dreary decorating in this place, the spirit of Christmas had somehow permeated the daily operations enough that he could hear people beginning to chatter about anticipated reunions with family, about presents and the prospect ofholiday romances.

Ever the optimist, Napoleon was hoping for his own romantic liaison later in the evening.He had made a date with the lovely and elusive Jennifer Harkins, she of the Translations hub and the one woman who had managed to turn down the resident heart throb of UNCLE New York.Other women had chastised her and then admired the shapely brunette for the tactics she employed.No one believed that she _didn't_ want to go out with Solo, only that she had seduced him with a seemingly disinterested air that served to draw him in like honey beckons to bears.

"Napoleon, wait up please."It was Illya.Napoleon quashed an uneasy feeling about being hailed by his partner at exactly the moment he was hoping to escape headquarters.He had already ignored a beeping noise that he refused to answer on the grounds that it was Christmas Eve.He knew it wouldn't hold water in the face of an actual emergency, but in his optimism that somehow his night was going to be magical, he had chosen to take his chances on serendipity.

"Hey, I said stop.Napoleon, where are you going in such a rush?"Illya always seemed to ask questions that just begged Solo to lie.He wouldn't, of course, and yet the Russian was wide open with such an inquiry.

"Illya, why are you chasing me?  It's quitting time, in case you hadn't noticed and it's also Christmas Eve.  I have…" And then he saw it.  The certainty of missing his date with Jennifer, the loss of the magic of Christmas on a night promising to add starlight to a frosty landscape.  A mission.

"I am sorry, Napoleon.You did not answer your communicator or your phone, and Mr. Waverly is expecting us in his office.' The blond gave his friend an expression of condolence, or as close as he could manage.

"Truly, I am sorry for your plans being put on hold.It is, it would seem, something that requires our immediate attention."

Napoleon's chin dropped to his chest, the grey walls closed in on his dreams of romance and laughter.Illya could only commiserate to the degree that he understood disappointment.He could not, as yet, associate that with the loss of a holiday, or a date with Jennifer Harkins.In truth he had already seen her on the previous Saturday, something he had failed to reveal to Napoleon.Some things were better left untold.

The two men walked side by side to the elevator and proceeded to the office of Alexander Waverly, who sat at his expansive round table with a pipe in his hand as he awaited their arrival.

Upon hearing the swish of the pneumatic doors, the Old Man looked up from his paperwork, a file folder that contained the information he would now pass on to his top operatives. 

"Gentlemen, please sit down.I apologize for disturbing your Christmas Eve, it is an unavoidable interruption to all of our holiday plans.' The Old Man looked up from beneath the shaggy eyebrows and settled his gaze on Napoleon.

"I especially regret that you will miss your, ahh… well, quite enough.Mr. Kuryakin, do you have the information I requested?"Napoleon refused to believe he had blushed at Waverly's unfinished thought, but mainly he wondered how he knew about the date with Jennifer.

Illya nodded in the affirmative before speaking.Waverly's office, with its solitary window, seemed somber tonight.There were no decorations indicating the holiday, in fact nothing colorful could be seen.The walls were grey, the tweeds were muted; it was as though all color had been removed from the building.It caused Napoleon to feel suddenly… deflated.There would be no Christmas, no warming fire where he could gently and tenderly seduce the lovely Jennifer.His mind was wandering far away from whatever Illya was droning on about.

"… and that other bit, I have no idea why the meeting might be scheduled for that location but the information seems to be correct."He had finished and Napoleon didn't know what he was going on about.

Waverly directed his attention once more to his CEA.He had observed the momentary lapse, of course.It didn't matter, Kuryakin would ensure that things went along as instructed, and Mr. Solo would soon catch on.

"Mr. Solo, you and Mr. Kuryakin will go to this meeting and intercept the courier.Not a difficult assignment, but one that must be completed successfully tonight.It will be the difference between a truly happy Christmas and one fraught with difficulties, courtesy of THRUSH.' Waverly reached across the file folder, laid hold of his pipe and began the ritualistic search for tobacco as he indicated the meeting was no over.

"Report back here as soon as you have retrieved the package.Christmas begins after this is completed."With pipe in hand, he turned his back as the chair swiveled around to face the screen behind him.Napoleon and Illya rose and walked to the door, both of them in thought concerning the night ahead.

The Waddle Inn was not a fine dining establishment, rather it was the epitome of a diner that one would find dotting the American landscape on any given highway.The name was the brainchild of a former burlesque comedian whose career ended in the midst of World War II, his upbringing in the care of a mother whose food drew crowds and who had cared enough to share her skills with the quirky son with whom she had been blessed.His ability to entertain the guests who frequented her home had led him to the City in pursuit of a career in show business.He had found his niche in the burlesque halls and eventually in some larger productions where he failed to meet expectations of producers and audiences alike.

Proud of his efforts but willing to change course at the age of thirty-five, Wallace Prunty turned in his jokes for a frying pan and never looked back.The Waddle Inn thrived in the stream of travelers who filled the highway in front of his diner, spreading good reviews and garnering faithful customers over a span of two decades.Retirement was still in the future and he envisioned many more years of serving the best diner food in the region.

Tonight would be no different, and Wally (as he was affectionately called by customers and friends), would serve Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.Those who couldn't pay would be treated to a free meal without recrimination or comment.This diner had been good to Wally and he intended to pay it back every chance he got.

Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin were traveling north-west towards Binghamton in order to rendezvous with the courier.The meeting place was a diner with a name Illya could only imagine existing in the United States. 

"The Waddle Inn? Who names an eating establishment with an insult?" Napoleon chuckled as he considered how much he would probably like the fellow who had done what the Russian deemed so inappropriate.

"Illya my friend, you should lighten up just a little.It's humorous, an invitation to come as you are and enjoy a good meal.Sally Jenkins told me to order their Spiedie; she said it would help to make up for having to work on Christmas Eve."

Illya rolled his eyes, not sure he wanted to know what a Spiedie was or, more importantly, why Sally Jenkins knew of this assignment.

"Dare I ask what a spiedie is and why Sally Jenkins know where we're going?" 

"Sally had the details already, she was read in on this mission in order to track the progress of the courier as he was heading for Binghamton.  She does work for Mr. Waverly, after all.  As for a spiedie, it's a delicious sandwich made from lamb.  It's actually quite famous in this region.' He looked at his partner and saw a familiar expression as the blond began to think about food and let it replace his suspicions about Sally.

"And this diner, it has a good reputation?"

"Yes, it seems that it does.Now, the courier will be waiting for us, which is good since the drive we're taking is about four hours.We pick up the package, and a spiedie, and head back to New York.We're done by Christmas morning and all's well with the world."

"Your world.I suppose you're still planning on seeing Jennifer.' Wait, he wasn't supposed to know about the date with Jennifer.

"You mentioned her recently so I have surmised… um…"

"How did you know about…? Say, have you…?"

Illya sighed, regretting having withheld the information from his friend.

"Jennifer and I went out last weekend.She seemed interesting, and I had the evening free… It turned out to be nothing special.Truly, she is a better match for you."

Napoleon Solo didn't like the idea of being handed someone's reject.If Illya didn't want Jennifer then perhaps he shouldn't go out with her.It might look as though he had to get his dates second hand from his partner.

"What's wrong with her?"

"What?Nothing is wrong with Jennifer, she is simply not my, uh… type.You always say that, and so now I must confess to having some expectations that she simply did not… fulfill."

They spent a few miles in silence.Napoleon was disappointed that Illya had gotten to Jennifer first, but especially unhinged that she hadn't been up to his expectations, whatever those might be.It didn't matter, he would cancel the date.This assignment was a good excuse and she wouldn't have a clue about his true intentions.

"Wait a minute…"

"Napoleon, there it is.The Waddle Inn."Illya was pointing at the diner, poised at the edge of Binghamton and open for business

Solo pulled off the highway and into the parking lot of the diner.It was a busy night by the looks of it, and after a few turns around the big lot he was able to find a space to park.They had left Headquarters at six-thirty, it was now a little after ten o'clock.Good time for traveling on a holiday.

The two were out of the car and heading into the diner when they spotted a familiar face; a THRUSH face.The man was someone they had encountered previously, and who was probably here to intercept the courier they were meeting.

"What do you want to do now?" Illya deferred to his partner, waited for a plan to emerge.

"I say we go in and get a booth, and then wait for our courier.The other guy probably won't cause a scene in there, so we'll have time to get out at least.Are you hungry?"Illya smiled at that.

"Yes, and a lamb sandwich sounds like a perfect Christmas meal.Our courier is wearing a navy blue trench coat and has a green scarf around his neck.Do you want to sit near him or away, better to observe the THRUSH?"

"Let's find him first and see how the room feels.It's crowded in there, and we don't want any trouble for these folks."The UNCLE agents hoped there wouldn't be any trouble.They could handle one man, assuming he was here alone.

It took a few minutes to get to a table, the diner was full and people were tending to linger over their meals.Illya strained to see over the heads of some people in front of him whose height topped his by several inches.One young woman was bold enough to hold a piece of mistletoe over his head and plant a kiss on his mouth.He answered it instinctively, much to the amazement of his partner.The girl smiled sweetly and slipped the blond a piece of paper.

"Did you see what she was wearing?That's our courier.Let's go, she's changing the drop details; she probably saw the THRUSH."Both of them turned and hurried out between customers, through the plate glass door and into the parking lot.The woman, who looked to be in her early twenties and was indeed wearing the blue trench and green scarf, stood by a white Mustang convertible.Her smile had turned to a look of concern that was reflected in the two agents as they approached.

"You look like you're ready for snow."

"I think it might rain instead."

They nodded as the pass phrases were exchanged.She handed over the package, a large manilla envelope.Only Waverly knew its contents, but that didn't matter.Getting it back to New York Headquarters was the only thing on their agenda now that the exchange had been made.

"You really ought to order a couple of spiedies to go, it will help you enjoy the drive back to the City." She winked at her comment and turned to leave.Illya looked at the paper finally, the one she had pushed into his hand.

"Hey, what's this then?"She turned and smiled, and suddenly Illya had a notion of what a night out with her might be like.

"Why, it's my phone number.Call me."He nodded and smiled a non-verbal promise.

As this was taking place, Napoleon was watching the activity in the diner.Something seemed odd about it, the ebb and flow of people had stopped and there was no longer a line waiting to get in.Without waiting for Illya, the American agent decided to go back inside and check out his suspicions.

The man from THRUSH was seated in a booth at the far end of the diner.He sat alone, but the table was loaded with a variety of dishes, including the fabled spiedie.Each booth was occupied by seemingly hungry patrons, and the waitresses were busy traversing the length of the iconic establishment.Behind the counter the cooks were busy as well, and all of the cooktops were filled with orders being prepared.It seemed in order, and yet…

An odor that wasn't on the menu began to waft in his direction, causing Napoleon to look once again towards the far end where the THRUSH agent was seated.In the middle of the table smoke was beginning to spiral upwards, and the beginning of a fire could be seen.As people became aware a panic erupted, much as the flames were doing. Screams of alarm resounded throughout the diner as one after another the customers came out of their seats and rushed towards the door.Napoleon was up on top of a table, hoping to see to the end of the place where the THRUSH sat, mesmerized by the fire he had apparently started.

Illya, in the midst of the flirtation begun with the courier, whose name was Iris, smelled the fire before he actually saw the smoke.Iris saw it and tugged on the Russian's jacket before sprinting towards the diner.Illya was right behind her but pulled her aside to avoid the stream of frightened people coming out of the door and down into the parking lot.

Fighting against the tide, Illya and Iris finally made their way inside, looking for Napoleon as he coughed in reaction to the smoke.They spotted him, still standing atop a table.

"Napoleon!Get down from there, let's go.This place will go upin flames soon."Illya's voice was stern, but Napoleon still craned his neck in search of the THRUSH.

"He started the fire!"

"Who? What are you talking about?"Illya was frustrated that his partner was refusing to get down.They needed to get out of this place and to safety.It was then that Wally emerged from the kitchen area, coughing and stumbling as though nearly overcome by the smoke.Illya caught him before the man collapsed, mumbling something about vendetta and lamb.

Illya motioned to Iris to help him lift Wally and get him outside, and Napoleon finally jumped down and joined them.The THRUSH had disappeared, leaving Solo confused and still suspicious about the entire affair.

Once outside among the crowd, Wally seemed slightly revived.Ambulances and fire trucks had screamed their way to the scene, but the diner was now fully aflame.Wally was crying, partly from smoke but now he began to tell a story about spiedies and Italian vendettas and family honor.

Napoleon and Illya listened attentively while Irish disappeared from the scene, but not before she kissed Illya once more.Christmas Eve had at least produced this bit of serendipity for which he might give thanks later.

For now he turned his attention back to his partner and the story being recited by the stunned diner owner.  It seemed his recipe for spiedies had been stolen years earlier from another Italian woman who had once been a friend of his mother's.  Wally had needed to recover from his failed career in show business, and after eating one of these sandwiches he knew how to guarantee success.  Years later, a grandson of the old woman whose recipe he had usurped decided to resurrect the feud (not a vigorous feud, which is why no one had considered fanning that particular fire ), and regaining some type of honor for the sake of the family's spiedie.

THRUSH seems to have inspired this vindictive streak in the young man, an unfortunate by product of working for the world's most corrupt group of hoodlums.He decided on Christmas Eve for the deed, something that would have reduced his poor grandmother to an even greater shame for a dreadful act.He was now in the custody of police, since a great number of the diner's customers had identified him as the perpetrator.In keeping with so many THRUSH schemes, the logic had gone completely awry, and he had bragged to several chums of his intentions; these fellows love to talk about their plans.

The customers eventually gathered around Wally and pledges were made to help him rebuild, insuring that the diner would reopen on an even grander scale, rebutting the intended vendetta and establishing Wally as the premier spiedie maker in the area.

While all of this was going on it had begun to snow.In a matter of minutes great drifts of snow had formed until the parking lot began to resemble a wonderland, with lights from the emergency vehicles providing illumination in brilliant Christmas colors.The fire was extinguished quickly, partly due to the snow and falling temperatures. Water began to freeze in huge icycles, arcing from the diner's diminishing frame and forming a new profile that glittered beneath a full moon and car headlights as people began to leave.Napoleon and Illya joined that parade, hoping to get on the road before a full blizzard formed. 

On the three hour drive back to New York, the two agents discussed the strange events of the evening, agreeing that Christmas Day was a welcome event to have ahead of them, contingent upon keeping the blizzard conditions behind them.They managed, but just barely.When at last they pulled up in front of Del Floria's, the streets were being plowed and the lights of the city shone down on mostly empty sidewalks.People were indoors, and children feared that Santa might not make it through the blizzard conditions.

Alexander Waverly sat at his desk, the last order of business for this day would be the report he would hear from Solo and Kuryakin.Blasted weather was threatening to keep him from getting home to Constance and the family, all of them gathered at his home for Christmas.When at last the two men entered the office, smelling slightly of smoke, their verbal report included not only the delivery of the package (now safely in the hands of Mr. Waverly), but also the strange tale of vendettas and spiedies, and of a community intent on rebuilding their favorite eatery.The Christmas spirit seemed to have permeated the night in spite of fire and blizzards and a misguided THRUSH.

"Gentlemen, you have had a harrowing night, it would seem.Now go home and get in out of this storm. I trust you have plans that might now be slightly altered due to the weather."He saw their reactions, knew that there would be no likely romances on this night.

"My wife has instructed me to invite you both to come home with me.The family are all there, and you know them of course.A feast is waiting on us, gentlemen.What do you say?"

Illya's face lit up at the mention of a feast, and Napoleon knew his apartment would be cold and empty tonight.They both nodded and thanked their boss for his invitation.What was Christmas, after all, if not a time to both offer and accept the kindness of friends and family.

In spite of the demise of the Waddle Inn, Wally was basking in the kindness of his customers and neighbors in his home town.The momentary dismay of losing his beloved business was overwhelmed as the offers of help and support illuminated his night.In the midst of so much grief emerged hope and love from people whose hearts poured out their good will.

For Illya and Napoleon, the Waverly's offer of a good meal and warm beds was met with genuine gratitude, and the pleasure of waking on Christmas morning in the safety and sanctity of such welcome hospitality was a respite from the life they lived.

It was a memorable Christmas, a good Christmas.In spite of what had seemed a tragedy, and in the wake of a winter storm that could have stranded the UNCLE agents in a strange town, or within Headquarters itself, the timely appearance of good will was what those involved would remember. 

The Christmas Spirit was alive and well, overcoming the bitterness of a vendetta and the meanness of a young man's jealous heart. Love and kindness won out, and that made for the merriest Christmas of all.


End file.
